what we sorely
lack we do not
talk about, afraid
that this may lead
only to the destruction
of our bridge
our love knows
that time always
keeps its hands
moving, and we
soon accept that
this lack is part of
the house of love,
in fact, what we
lack built us the
spaces for windows
to exist for doors
to be real, and so
here we are now
still one, no one is
a shadow here,
a true soul cannot
project it...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem